All You Can Do
by L Moonshade
Summary: One place Methos didn't want the Doctor to take him.


I don't own Doctor Who or Highlander. I'll return everything to its upright and locked position when I'm done.

A/N: This is a plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote it in self defense. It's a one-shot that isn't connected to any of my other stories, though those who have read my story Leaving the World Behind will recognize the _Shopi_.

A/N 2: Apparently a Methos muse has not just inspired, but set up camp and made himself at home. If you get tired of seeing me write Methos stories (I know I could use a change), blame him.

* * *

"Here you are. Home."

Methos looked out over the Doctor's shoulder. "Are you sure? This doesn't look like London."

"Of course it's…" the Doctor began, indignant, before looking for himself. It was a post-Apocalyptic scene that greeted him; burnt out husks of buildings, fires burning in the distance, junked-out cars and garbage littering the street.

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around. "No, it's London," he said, pointing behind Methos. "There's Big Ben."

Methos turned. It was the landmark, all right, but it had been all but obliterated. "My God. What happened, here?"

"Methos?"

The voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Methos spun, only to find someone he'd never seen before. She was small but rough-looking, with brown hair and hazel eyes that regarded him as if he shouldn't be there.

"By the Gods," she murmured. Then, as if remembering herself, shook her head. "If you want explanations, it's best done inside. Trust me, you don't want to be seen."

Methos glanced at the Doctor who shrugged then closed and locked the TARDIS door. Without a word the men followed her inside one of the buildings and down to the basement, which was more closed off than the rest. She closed the door behind them and engaged the locks, all half dozen of them; only then did she turn on a light.

"As you can see, things have gone to hell. I've got some beer, though."

"I think I need one," Methos said, looking around.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

She headed for the kitchen. "My name is… Well, my human name doesn't matter, any more. Call me Adi."

"You're not human?" the Doctor asked.

"No, I'm _Fe_. _Shopi_, more specifically."

Methos' breath caught. "The _Shopi_ were shape-shifters," he said in answer to the Doctor's questioning look. "Most people called them werecats, but that's not accurate; they were feline, not human. The Pharaoh at the time forgot what he owed the _Fe_ and they turned against him; when they did, he struck back. I tried to stop it but I wasn't able to and the _Shopi_, and all the Egyptian _Fe_, were wiped out. My first regret and my greatest."

"The Methos in this reality did save us," Adi said, coming back into the room. "We set him up as the new Pharaoh and neither of us ever forgot what we each owed the other. Not even when…" she trailed off.

"Not even when he was Death on a horse?" Methos asked, taking the bottle she offered.

"No." She sighed. "Have a seat."

"What happened here?" the Doctor said, finding a spot on the floor to settle down.

"Let me explain how I know you, Doctor, since that's the shorter story. Someone once had the theory that every bit of fiction is, in truth, someone else's reality. That people who are sensitive to such things can… Pick up the events, as if they were a weak radio. In the sixties, a new TV show called Doctor Who went on the air; Time Lord, TARDIS with a broken chameleon circuit, etc." She shrugged. "So, that's how I know who you are and how I knew what it was I heard. Though, the last time I saw the series, you were on your eighth regeneration."

"I'm the ninth."

She regarded the Doctor then smiled. "You've looked worse." Then, turning to Methos, "I never expected to see you, though."

"Your Methos is dead, isn't he?"

Adi nodded. "Yes. Bordeaux."

Methos admired her subtlety and tact. If he hadn't gone through those events, what she'd said wouldn't tell him a thing. But if he had, that word was all he would need. "Your MacLeod didn't stop Cassandra."

"No. No one knows for certain what happened, but there are a few theories. The one I subscribe to is that… She was stuck in that time. Two, three thousand years later and she was still there. I think that her state, combined with his Quickening, plus the bits of both Silas and Kronos he'd taken and which hadn't settled… Whatever the reason, she went mad and became a killer. Mortals, Immortals, anyone who stood in her way. MacLeod did everything he could to stop her, everything but take her head, until it was far too late. Mortals other than the Watchers had learned the truth by that time and, with the threat that Cassandra—and those she had drawn to her—posed, the war had flared back into life. There were only a handful of Immortals left by that point, between the work of the Hunters and Cassandra's group. They were easy pickings for MacLeod and, just a year ago, he became the last."

"Then, why have things gone to… Oh, Gods," Methos groaned as the answer occurred to him. "Another Dark Quickening."

"And there was no one important enough to him to get through; Cassandra had targeted everyone close to both MacLeod and Methos. I tried and he nearly killed me; only the fact that he didn't know about the _Shopi_ saved me. Unfortunately, our encounter taught him about us and, after we joined the front lines, he targeted us. There's only a handful of _Fe_ left alive and, by now, we're about the only ones standing against him. It's only a matter of time." She finished her beer and stood. "You shouldn't stay long. If he were to come by, sense you…"

"She's right. I'm sorry," the Doctor said, reaching out to grip Methos' shoulder, silencing him. "There's nothing we can do."

Methos nodded, tears welling in his eyes, and stood. "I'm so sorry."

"What year are you from?"

"2006."

"That's what it is, here." She smiled. "It's nice to know there's at least one reality where it went right."

There was a pounding on the door. "Adi! _Per ma!_"

She ran to the door and unlocked it. Outside were two people, a man who looked gravely injured and a young boy who propped him up.

"Take him to the back room, I'll be right there."

Methos reached to help the boy, but Adidai stopped him.

"You can't waste any more time. That man is one of the last _Shopi_, if he's in that much trouble, it means MacLeod's back in London. You have to go now."

Methos nodded, then leaned forward to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. She leaned into his touch and his heart clenched with a sudden certainty.

"You loved him, didn't you? MacLeod? That's why you're so numb."

She let out a harsh laugh. "I'm not numb. It hurts worse than I've felt in years, seeing you. Talking to you."

Methos closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

"We do what we can and I can save you. Doctor, get him out of here."

The Doctor took Methos' arm. "She's right," he said gently.

"I won't forget," Methos murmured, then followed the Doctor out.

They hurried back to the TARDIS, a mercifully short run. Once inside, the Doctor raced around the console, giving orders. "Hold that button down and flip that lever…" he trailed off, struck by the look of despair on Methos' face. He could well imagine what the ancient was feeling.

"Go on, then."

Methos looked up sharply. "What?"

"You heard her; we all do what we can. Well, we can save one person, at least. I'll get the TARDIS ready, you go get her."

Methos nodded and raced out, wondering if she'd want to go while there were people to help. Wondering when it was that others' survival had come to mean more to him than his own.

"I wish I'd never met you, MacLeod," he grumbled, racing back down to the hole that was Adi's home.

The door was unlocked and he felt a stab of fear until he found her in the back room. The boy was gone but the man was still there, dead at her feet. She wasn't crying, there were no tears, but Methos thought that was likely due to the fact that she simply didn't have any more to spare.

She looked up and, without a word, Methos held out his hand. She turned back to the man and closed his eyes then took Methos' hand and let him draw her to her feet. He wondered briefly if her Methos had loved her, but pushed the thought aside and led her out at a run.

They were in view of the TARDIS when he felt it, the buzz of Immortal Presence like a physical blow, and he stumbled. Was that how he felt to other Immortals? He heard something behind them and spun, putting Adi at his back and drawing his sword.

He didn't recognize this MacLeod. The face could have been the same, under the look of hatred and cruelty, but Methos would never know. The creature stopped, stunned, then a lazy smile made its way across his face.

"Well, well. I don't know how it's possible, but there's no doubt who you are. I'd recognize that Quickening anywhere."

"I don't want any trouble. Just let us go…"

"Oh, no, I don't think so. I always regretted the fact that I wasn't the one to take your head. Now, I can rectify that. Get ready Old Man. I'll give you one minute to say your good byes."

Methos heard the TARDIS door open, knew the only chance was to run for it. "When it starts, run," he told Adi. Then, loudly, "The only good bye I'll be saying is to you."

MacLeod laughed and drew his sword (Methos noticed it wasn't the katana and wondered if MacLeod had given it up or if it had been lost). "That's what you think," he said, moving closer.

Methos took two steps towards the other Immortal when a large, tawny shape raced forward, the lioness making an attempt to bring MacLeod down.

"Adi, no," he tried to yell, his voice robbed by the tightness in his throat.

MacLeod wasn't able to keep his feet and fell. "I thought I'd gotten rid of the last of you. I'll fix that soon enough."

There was no signal that Methos could detect, but a good dozen people raced into the street and Methos wondered where they'd been hiding. Only a dozen, but every one of them had a blade-like weapon. MacLeod, still focused on Adi, didn't notice until they swarmed him, striking with all the strength they possessed.

Adi raced back, taking human form as she moved. "Run," she said, grabbing his hand. "You do _not_ want his Quickening."

She was right about that, Methos thought, and they raced into the TARDIS, stumbling and falling into a heap at the base of the console. The door slammed shut behind them and the Doctor started racing around, calling out directions. This time, Methos got up and did as he was told.

Once they were in the Vortex and his help wasn't needed, Methos dropped to his knees and gathered Adi into his arms. She started sobbing and he held her close; they stayed there for long minutes until she cried herself out, cried herself to sleep.

"You're not her Methos," the Doctor said as Methos picked her up.

"I know and so does she. She didn't once refer to us as the same person, did you notice?"

The Doctor nodded. "I did. She's strong; she'll be fine. We'll make sure of that."

Methos nodded. "I'm going to take her to my room, for now. If you need me, let me know, but try to do without? I don't want her waking up alone."

The Doctor nodded and Methos moved farther into the ship, grateful when she put his room only two doors down the hall. He thanked the TARDIS as he set Adi down on the bed and climbed in next to her. She whimpered and he lay a hand on her arm; in her sleep, she moved closer and he let her. As he watched her he thought about everything that had gone wrong in that reality, thought about the last image he'd caught on the view screen, of MacLeod rising from a pile of still bodies. He tightened his grip on her, heedless of the tears streaming down his face, and gave thanks. Not just for the fact that his head was still attached to his neck, but that he'd been able to save at least one. It wasn't enough, it was never enough, but sometimes, it was all you could do.


End file.
